Page 90 of Refrain
It didn’t garner an immediate response.
“You don’t know what he’s doing. Give him a chance. And if you don’t get a response to that one, keep sending them. Either he’ll eventually reply, or he’ll tell you to stop. Either way, progress, and a definite idea of where you stand.”
She didn’t much fancy the prospect of being told to fuck off, but the rest of the plan made sense.
“How come you’re not taken?” she asked him a while later as extreme violence played out on the TV screen. The film was subtitled, and neither of them were paying proper attention. Every now and then Paul would improvise his own translation that was far more humorous than the original, which for all its schlock horror seemed to be aiming for serious.
“Well… I’m the bass player, Ms Hutton, and we’re always the last in the queue. Although, to be honest, if someone asked me to do long term with them, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I’ve been a nomad since day one. My relationships tend to be fleeting. I get bored easily.”
“You’ve never wanted anything more permanent… settled?”
“Nope.”
“Never met anyone and thought, she…they’re the one?”
“She,” he said. “And also no.” He thought a moment longer. “Definitely, no.”
“Yet I detect a moment of hesitation there.”
He laughed aloud. “It’s a no, Alle. I promise you I don’t have any secret crushes. Hell, I don’t have any secrets. I’m probably the only member of Black Halo who isn’t a total screw-up with scads of trauma to work through.”
“Idyllic childhood? Two loving parents. No doomed romances?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I mean my folks are batshit crazy, but that’s no bad thing.” He dug his teeth into his lower lip while smiling so that the joy of his remembrances twinkled in his eyes. “I think we covered the romance part before. I’m not saying there hasn’t been any trauma in my life, of course there has, but all the really bad stuff, I’ve been adjacent to it, rather than it affecting me directly.”
“You and Elspeth were close, weren’t you?”
“She’s practically my sister. I love her, but you can be there for somebody without taking on their baggage.”
“Maybe you should have gone after Spook, not Xane. You could have been level-headed.”
He stared at her surprisingly serious for a moment. “Oh, no. That’d be a blindingly dumb idea. Spook and Xane, even Luthor for that matter, all speak the same language. Me?” He shook his head. “Nah. Too much mushiness and dwelling on stuff. Your man might be a sadist, but he’s also an emotional thunderstorm. Xane’s the same. Means they do most of their communicating without saying a blasted word. Whereas, I’m more of a deal with it, talk it through if you must, but then for God’s sake move on kind of guy. Too much moping pisses me off.”
His phone bleeped, and he idly glanced at the screen, only to then do a double take and pick it up.
“What?” Alle demanded. “Has something—”
“Holy shit!” He was off the sofa and pacing.
Alle stood too. “What? Paul, what is it?”
“I’ve been summoned.”
“Huh? By?”
He didn’t answer, just stood there scratching his head and looking vaguely flummoxed.
“Paul?” she prompted him. “You can’t just say that and leave me dangling. What’s going on? Was that from Xane?” She prodded him in the stomach. “Talk to me.”
He shook the look of bewilderment off his face, but it was fast replaced with a goofy grin. “I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Go? Go where?”
“Cornwall,” he said, but only after she’d given him another belly prod.
“Cornwall! Why?”
He began gathering his things together. “I’m sorry, Alle, I’m going to have to go.”
